


Stomach Flu

by MyOwnSuperintendent



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSuperintendent/pseuds/MyOwnSuperintendent
Summary: Emily brings home the stomach flu from kindergarten.  Soon Scully catches it too--or does she?





	Stomach Flu

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own The X-Files or anything related to it. Hope you enjoy!

Mulder wakes to the sound of a voice in the darkness.  “Mommy?  Daddy?”  Next to him, Scully stirs.  “I threw up.”

Scully switches on the light.  “You did, huh?” she says, surveying Emily, who’s standing next to the bed.  Her face is flushed, and there’s evidence of the throwing up on her pajama top.

Emily nods.  “On my bed too.”

“Poor thing,” Scully says, starting to get out of bed.  “Do you still feel sick?”

“I don’t know,” Emily says.

“Well, we’ll get you cleaned up and we’ll take your temperature,” Scully says; she’s all the way out of bed now, and she takes Emily’s hand.  “And we’ll see how you’re doing.”

“You’ll be okay, Em,” Mulder says.  He gets out of bed as well now, and they all make their way across the hall to Emily’s room. 

He handles stripping and remaking the bed (thankfully Emily’s teddy bear was spared);  he can hear Scully talking to Emily from the bathroom.  “Hmm,” she says.  “You do have a little bit of a fever, sweetheart.  Does your stomach hurt?”

“A little.”

“Were you feeling sick before you went to bed?” Scully continues.  “Or did you just wake up and feel sick?”

“I just woke up.”

“Well, you’re all cleaned up now,” Scully says, “so I’m going to give you some medicine, and then you can go back to bed.  I think sleeping will help you feel better.”  He hears Emily protesting the medicine, as she inevitably does, and he smiles to himself as he puts a fresh blanket on the bed: she can’t be feeling too, too awful.

“It tastes bad.”

“I know,” Scully says.  “But it’ll help you feel better.  Do you feel like you might throw up again, if you go back to bed?”

“I don’t know,” Emily says.

“We’ll leave you the basin then,” Scully says.  “Just in case.”  They come back to the bedroom then, Emily in clean pajamas now.

“How’re you feeling, Em?” he asks her.  She shrugs, and he stoops down to give her a hug.  “Like your mom said,” he tells her, “let’s get you back into bed.  And you might feel all better in the morning.”  He tucks her in, and they both kiss her goodnight and tell her she can come get them again if she needs anything.

“She has a fever?” he asks Scully as they’re heading back to their own bed.

Scully nods.  “A small one.  I think it’s just a bug.  But we’ll see how she’s doing tomorrow.”

“She’s got a good doctor in the house,” he says, and Scully manages a smile at that.

In the morning, Emily throws up again; Scully tends to her while Mulder goes to call the school.  “They said they’re not surprised,” he says, coming back to Emily’s room, where Scully is tucking her back into bed.  “There’s a stomach flu going around at the school.”

“That would explain it,” Scully says.  “Have other kids in your class been out sick, sweetheart?”

Emily nods.  “Katie.  And Alex J.”

“Well, you’ll probably have to stay home for a couple of days,” Scully says.  “But I’ll stay with you, and we can do some fun things.”

“Will you read to me?” Emily asks.

“Of course I will,” Scully says.  “What book would you like?”

“ _Betsy-Tacy_ ,” Emily says, after a minute, and Scully goes to get it from the shelf. 

“You’ll tell Skinner I’m not going to be in?” she asks, looking up at Mulder from her position next to the book case.

“You can count on me,” he says.  “Sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“We’ll be fine,” she says.  “I’ll call you to check in, though.”  He doesn’t protest this.  Since last year, when he and Scully got married and he officially adopted Emily, he’s taken on his share of everything—even the unpleasant tasks (taking Emily to the dentist), especially the pleasant ones (receiving elaborate crayon drawings with accompanying hugs)—but Scully still takes charge when it comes to sickness.  This is partially because she knows more about it and partially because she’ll go crazy if she doesn’t get to; he stayed home with Emily once, when she had a bad cold, and Scully called them roughly every thirty minutes to see how she was doing.  So he’ll hold down the fort with the X-Files today, and Scully will spend the day with Emily, reading books and heating up soup.  He knows she worries, even though Emily hasn’t been really sick since those first days.  He worries with her.  But this time Emily will be okay, he thinks; it’s just a stomach flu, just something that’s going around the school.  He kisses them both goodbye before he goes.

He talks to Scully on the phone around noon—Emily’s napping, after having had some soup, and her fever is down a bit.  He leaves work a little early and stops at the store on the way home, where he picks up a coloring book and a Beanie Baby cat.  He comes into the apartment quietly, in case she’s sleeping again, but she’s awake; he finds the two of them sitting in Emily’s room, Scully reading to her again.  “Hi there,” he says.  “Feeling better, Em?”

“My stomach still hurts,” she says.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says.  “I hope it feels better really soon.  Here, I brought you some things.  To keep you company while you have to stay home.”  He holds out the coloring book and the cat, and Emily’s eyes light up.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says, taking the cat into her arms, looking at the tag to see what its name is.  Scully smiles too, watching her. 

“How was work?” she asks.

“Just paperwork,” he says.  “Boring without you.”

“Without being able to pawn it off on me, you mean,” she says, still smiling.

“When did I ever do that?” he asks.

“Mommy was reading me _Betsy-Tacy_ ,” Emily says.  “But we’re almost finished.  Maybe we’ll read the second one tomorrow.  If I’m still sick.”

“Well, we certainly hope you’re not,” Scully says.  “But if you are, of course I’ll read to you.”

“Okay,” Emily says.  She looks tired, and still a little flushed, but content. 

Emily throws up again the next morning, which means another day home from kindergarten.  She talks to Mulder when Scully calls him that afternoon.  “My stomach feels funny,” she says.  “And I had to have medicine.  But we’re reading _Betsy-Tacy and Tib_.  And I colored a picture of birds in the book you gave me.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” he tells her.  “You keep resting, sweetheart.  And listen to your mom, even if she gives you more medicine.  She’s a really good doctor, you know.”

“I know,” she says, sounding wiser than a five-year-old has any right to.  “But I still don’t like medicine.”

“Nobody does,” he says.  “But we all have to take it, from time to time.  Even if we don’t like it.”  He’s still not sure if he’s the right person to be giving lessons on doing things that are good for you even when you don’t like them.  He’s avoided that often enough.  But he’s Emily’s dad now, so it’s his job, and he’ll try to do the best with it he can.

Her stomach still hurts the next morning, but the fever is gone, and she doesn’t throw up again.  By the evening, when he gets home, she’s feeling almost all better.  “I think we’ll keep you home tomorrow,” Scully says, “just in case.  And it’ll be Friday anyway.  But I bet you can go back on Monday.  Good as new.”  She smoothes Emily’s hair.

“Good as new,” Emily repeats.

He wakes suddenly on Friday morning, sure that Emily’s sick again; he hears the unmistakeable sounds of someone throwing up.  But when he goes to investigate, it’s Scully, bent over the toilet in their bathroom.  “Oh, honey,” he says.  He kneels down beside her, putting one hand on her back, holding her hair with the other.  “Emily’s stomach flu?” he asks, when she’s finished and is sitting back, with a clammy look to her face that he’s seen on their daughter over the past week.

“Looks like it,” she says, disgust evident in her voice.  He doesn’t know which she hates more, seeing Emily sick or being sick herself.  It’s a very close race.

“It’s okay,” he tells her.  “We’ll all stay home today.  I’ll take care of both of you.  All right?”

She nods—probably because she doesn’t have a choice—and he goes to call Skinner while she gets back into bed.  When Emily gets up, she’s a lot brighter and more energetic than she’s been, which he senses may pose a challenge.  “Your mom’s sick this morning,” he tells her.  “She has the stomach flu now too.”

Emily looks sober.  “I could read to her now.  And she can color in my book if she wants.  There are still five pictures left.  She can have the one of the puppies.”  He can tell from the tone of her voice that this is a tremendous sacrifice. 

“I don’t think your mom would want to take that from you,” he says.

“Well, she can have another one of the pictures then,” Emily says.  “I’ll go give her the book right now.”  She starts for their bedroom, coloring book in hand.

“Em,” he says, calling her back; she turns and looks at him.  “Just be…gentle, okay?  Your mom doesn’t feel well, and she might just want to rest.”

Emily nods.  “I know,” she says.  “I just wanted to rest, all week.”  She looks very serious about it, so he makes sure he doesn’t laugh.  “I’ll be very nice.”

“Okay,” he says, and Emily goes into the bedroom.

Scully declines the offer of a picture to color, but she suggests that Emily sit next to her and color one herself, which seems to suit her just as well.  Mulder brings tea for Scully and apple juice for Emily, and Emily insists on reading the end of _Betsy-Tacy and Tib_ to her mom.  “Because you read to me all week,” she says.  Mulder sits next to them and listens too, as Emily carefully sounds out the words.

Emily seems to be feeling entirely better by the end of the day, and even Scully isn’t feeling as bad as she did in the morning.  “Maybe I don’t have Emily’s stomach flu after all,” she says, hopefully, as they sit around the kitchen table eating soup.

“That would be good,” Mulder says, “for all of us,” and she rolls her eyes at him.

But she’s throwing up again, the next morning, looking thoroughly annoyed with the entire situation.  Mulder brings more soup, more tea, more crackers.  Emily offers to read another story.  “You’ll feel better soon, Mommy,” she says, brushing Scully’s hair back from her forehead with a gesture he’s seen Scully use on her many times.  She really does pick up everything.  It still astonishes him.

Emily’s stomach flu lasted five days, but Scully’s is still going strong after a week.  And then a week and a half.  “Will Mommy get better soon?” Emily asks him at breakfast one morning, when he’s trying to get her ready for school and check on Scully at the same time.

“I hope so, sweetheart,” Mulder says.  “Sometimes it just takes a little while.”

“Will she have to go to the hospital?”  Emily has a complicated fascination-repulsion relationship with the concept of hospitals, these days.

“Well, we hope she’ll get better on her own,” Mulder says, “but if she did go to the hospital, that wouldn’t be a terrible thing.  Hospitals are there to help people get better.  We’ve all been in hospitals, right?  Me and you and your mom.  And they’ve helped us all.”

“Yeah,” Emily says, but she sits there after that, pushing the cereal back and forth in the bowl with her spoon instead of finishing it. 

He decides he won’t push it.  “Your mom is so strong,” he says.  “She’s going to be fine.”  He gives her an extra hug when he drops her off that morning.  He thinks they both need it.

Because he’s more worried than he’ll show in front of Emily.  He’s beginning to think that Scully may have been right—that she doesn’t have Emily’s stomach flu—only he’s not so sure that’s a good thing, now.  He’s afraid this might be something worse.  He can’t help thinking about four years ago, seeing her so sick.  And they weren’t even…now they have so much more to lose.  Whatever he said to Emily, he doesn’t like the idea of Scully needing to go to the hospital.  But he doesn’t like the idea of her not going, either, if this isn’t just some ordinary illness.

He goes to check on her when he gets home; she’s lying in bed, trying to read the newspaper and looking clammy.  “How’re you feeling?” he asks. 

She shrugs.  “I’ve been better.”

“Do you…”  He floats the suggestion cautiously.  “Do you think you might need to go to the doctor?”

“I am a doctor,” she says.

“Fully aware of that,” he says, trying to smile, trying not to jump to frightening conclusions.  “But you can’t…I don’t know, look down your own throat.”

Her smile is weak, but at least she’s not too sick to smile.  “True.  But I’m fine, Mulder.  I’m just taking a little longer to get over this, that’s all.  It’s probably because we’ve been so busy recently.  You get run down.”

 “Yeah,” he says.  “Yeah, you’re probably right.  Maybe we can take some extra time off in December, when Em’s off from school.  Go on vacation.  Somewhere warm.”

“Oh,” she says.  “Oh, that sounds so nice,” and her smile is stronger now.

“Then it’s a plan,” he says.  “You just work on feeling better before then.”

“It’s only October, Mulder,” she says.  “I’m sure I’ll feel better soon.”

But she’s not better, the next week, and he decides that they can’t keep going on like this.  “Scully,” he says, one morning when she’s just returned from throwing up in the bathroom for the third time.  He feels like he might be taking advantage of her weakened state, but if he can get her to go to the doctor, he doesn’t care.  “You need to see a doctor about this.”

“No, I don’t,” she says.  “It’s just the stomach flu.”

“It’s not the stomach flu.”

“It is,” she says.  “I caught it from Emily.”

“This is nothing like what Emily had,” he says.  “She got over it in five days, and she was feeling better all the time.  You’ve had this…whatever it is…for more than two weeks now.  And you keep feeling worse.  Don’t you?”  She doesn’t answer, which he knows how to interpret.  “So it’s not the stomach flu.”

“Okay, maybe it’s not,” she says.  “But that doesn’t mean I need to see a doctor.”

“Yes, you do,” he says.  “Scully, I hate seeing you like this.”

“It’s not all about you.”

“Well, it’s more about you,” Mulder says, “but I think it’s about me a little.  We are married.  Last I checked, that meant I was allowed to worry about you.”

“There isn’t anything to worry about,” Scully says, but there’s no conviction in her words.

He sits down next to her on the bed, putting an arm around her shoulders.  “Hey,” he says, “what’s going on?  Why don’t you want to see a doctor?”  She doesn’t say anything.  “Honey,” he says, gently.  “Talk to me.”

“I don’t think it’s the stomach flu either,” she says, quietly.  “What if…what if I’m sick again, Mulder?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s the stomach flu,” Mulder says, “but it’s…it’s probably not anything that bad, Scully.  It wasn’t like this before, was it?  Not the same symptoms?”

She shakes her head.  “No.  But that doesn’t mean…it still could be…I just don’t know.”

He holds her tight.  “That’s why you need to see a doctor, honey.  It might be something that’s really easy to fix.  And even if it’s not…well, they’ll be able to take care of you.  Do something about it.  I don’t want you getting sicker.”

“I don’t want that either,” she says.  “Of course I don’t.”

“We need you,” he says.  “Me and Emily.  She’s worried about you too, you know.  So will you please go to see a doctor?”

She nods slowly.  “Give me my phone,” she says.  “I’ll make an appointment for tomorrow.”

The next morning, he half asks her if he can come along and half tells her that he will be coming; she seems to like the idea, though, especially since she doesn’t feel well enough for driving.  He holds her hand in the waiting room and sits next to her once she’s in with the doctor, explaining her symptoms, taking tests.  He holds her hand again while they’re waiting for the doctor to come back with the results.

She squeezes his hand, tightly.  “Did you think she sounded concerned?”

“I’d hope she’s concerned,” Mulder says.  “That’s her job.”

“You know what I mean,” Scully says.  “I mean, do you think she thought I was…?”  She trails off, a nervous look on her face.

“Scully, no,” he says.  “We’re here now.  Let’s just…let’s just wait and hear what she has to tell us.”  Doing that is hard for him too, but he tries to keep his voice calm, tries to reassure her as best he can.  “Whatever happens,” he says, “I’ll be there.  With whatever you need.”

“I know you will,” Scully says.  “But Emily, Mulder.  She’s already been through so much…if I’m sick again…”

He doesn’t know what to say.  He doesn’t want to think about the possibilities.  “We’ll take care of each other,” he says.  “That’s a promise.”  He means it, but he feels like it doesn’t mean much.  Scully doesn’t say anything more, just holding his hand tightly until the doctor comes back in.

“I have your test results, Dana,” she announces.  “And I’m happy to say that you’re not ill.”

“What do you mean?” Scully asks.

“You’re pregnant,” the doctor says, and Mulder stares, because those were not words he expected to hear.  Not now, not about Scully, not about them.  “Based on the information you gave me, I’d say that you’re about two months along.”

“I…what?” Scully says.  From the expression on her face, she’s as shocked as Mulder is, maybe even more so.  She keeps opening and closing her mouth, and she doesn’t seem able to form a complete sentence.  “I…what…how…but I can’t…”

“I know this can come as a surprise,” the doctor says.  “We’re happy to offer you help and resources—”

“No!  This is…it’s good,” Scully says.  Her hand is still lying against Mulder’s, and he takes it between both of his own; she gives him a stunned smile.  “I just…they said I couldn’t…how?”

The doctor looks a bit confused; since he’s the one here for moral support, Mulder figures he ought to try to explain to her.  “I...they said…”  He’s not feeling much more articulate than Scully is at the moment—this is too wondrous—but he makes his best effort.  “We thought she couldn’t get pregnant,” he manages.  “Not that we’re not happy…”  And that’s strange too, that he’s saying how he feels to this doctor, someone he’s never met before.  That the moment isn’t just him and Scully.  “Do you know why?”

“These things do happen,” the doctor says.  She doesn’t have a better explanation than they do, apparently.  Scully’s still gaping at him.

“Do you think…could we have a minute?” he finally says.  He wants to try to wrap his head around this, and he knows Scully does too, and he thinks they might be able to do that slightly better without the doctor.

“Of course,” she says.  “I’ll be back soon with some more information for you.”  And she turns and goes.

“Mulder…” Scully breathes, once they’re alone.  “Mulder, I’m…did she just say…”

“I think so,” he says.  He presses her to him; maybe that will show her what he doesn’t have the words for now.  “I think so.”

“How do you think…?”

“I don’t know,” he says.  “I mean, we have been doing plenty of what usually causes it…”  She laughs, but when she looks up at him there are tears in her eyes.  He feels them in his own, too.

“You’re happy about it too, right?” she says.  “I know we never thought…”

“Scully, of course I’m happy,” he says.  “How could I not be?”  He kisses her, the top of her head, her cheek, her lips.  He presses one hand to her belly, gently; she doesn’t look any different than she did ten minutes ago, of course, but this new knowledge makes everything feel like it’s changed.  “If this baby’s even half as amazing as Emily,” he tells her, “it’s going to be one of the greatest kids who ever lived.”  He pauses.  “I don’t like saying ‘it.’  When can we find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Not this early, usually,” Scully says.  “Do you want to find out, though?”

It’s not a question he’s ever thought about.  It’s not a question he’s ever thought he would get to think about.  “I think so,” he says.  “If you do.”

“I think so too,” Scully says.  “Mulder…we’re going to have a baby.”  She kisses him again.  “I’m just…oh God, I’m so happy.”  She shakes her head.  “I still don’t understand how, though.”

“A miracle,” Mulder says.  “An impossible thing before breakfast.”

She laughs.  “Maybe you’re right.  I didn’t have breakfast.”

“Do you feel like eating now?” he asks.  “It’s good for you to eat.  Right?”

“I think it’s good for everyone to eat, yes,” Scully says.  She hasn’t stopped smiling. 

“Well, when we get out of here, I’ll take you for breakfast.  Or lunch.  Or brunch.  Or whatever meal it’s time for now,” he says.  They haven’t really been here that long, but it feels like it’s another epoch now.  “I told you I’d be here with whatever you needed, right?”

“You did,” Scully says.  “And I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” he says, and he holds her close, and he kisses her again.  They’re going to have a baby.  In the spring, they’ll have two children.  He wonders how he got to be so lucky, all of a sudden.  That seems like its own miracle.

It’s almost one when they leave the doctor’s office, armed with informational pamphlets and the date of Scully’s next appointment.  They go to eat, smiling at each other across their meals, their hands touching on the tabletop.  Then they go to pick up Emily from kindergarten.

“We should still take that vacation,” Scully says on the drive over, “the one you were talking about last week.  We’re going to be extra busy soon, you know.”

“Good thinking,” he says. 

“And it’ll be nice to do that with Emily,” she adds, “while she’s still the baby.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling.  “I hope she’ll be happy too, though.  When she finds out.”

“It’s a little early to tell her,” Scully says.  “But in a couple of months…I hope she will too.  It’ll be more change for her.”

“But some changes are good,” Mulder says, and Scully nods.  “And anyway, she’ll be happy today to see that you’re out of bed.”

That certainly proves to be the case.  “Mommy!” Emily squeals as they collect her outside her classroom.  They usually trade off with pick-up duty, but Mulder’s been doing it singlehanded for the last couple of weeks.  “You’re here!”

“I am,” Scully says, stooping down to hug her.  “And I’m very happy to be.”

“So you’re feeling better?” Emily asks, clinging to Scully’s hand as they walk back to the car.

“Yes, much better,” Scully says.  “I went to the doctor today, and she said there’s nothing wrong with me.  And I should be feeling all better soon.”

“That’s good,” Emily says.  “That’s so good.”

Emily insists that Scully sit in the back with her on the way home (Mulder keeps glancing at them in the rearview mirror), and when they get back to the apartment she drags her to sit with her on the couch while she colors.  Scully obliges, smiling, brushing back Emily’s hair, and Mulder joins them too, watching them both.  Scully catches his eye then, and they share a look over Emily’s head; he knows they’re both thinking about the future, about what they have coming.  There’ll be more time to talk about it later, but right now Emily wants them to show them her picture, and they turn to look at that.


End file.
